I don’t know if this is an original concept, but isn’t masturbation the emptiest form of self-love that there is? It requires very little effort, and more so, no emotional involvement. For some it may be images of someone they truly love, or an unfulfilled desire. While for others it’s the alternative to texting that crazy ex because you are hornier than you have been in some time and right about now anything is sexy to you.
The reason I bring up such a lewd subject matter is because of what is within it. Self-love. Do me a favor, stop reading, look into a mirror, now look into your eyes and say these three words: I love you. You may giggle, feel stupid, feel uncomfortable, feel foolish, but do it again, now do it again, and keep doing it until you actually start to believe it. Think about this. Over the course of our lives, especially early on, we hear, read, and see things so repetitively that we officially believe it. Great example, growing up Catholic, and when I say growing up Catholic, I mean going to Catholic School from Kindergarten through my Senior year of high school. I was even an alter boy at one point. Yes me! But one thing I can simply recall is hearing that if I swear, I’m sinning, which equals hell. So every time I swear, I’m going to be thrown into the pits of hell when I die. Or at least that is what my nervous system is telling my mind. Now, lets get something straight, if I say fuck, I don’t have a panic attack envisioning Satan stabbing me in the ass with his pitchfork in a 200 degree setting surrounded by Hitler and Bin Laden. But I do recall being punished, verbally, and the occasional smack on the ass or arm if I said shit. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not being dismissive of the moral and ethical values that helped shaped my character as a human being thanks to those teachings. What I’m more focused on is the neglect of emotions that happens on a daily basis.
We were never taught to believe that we are beautiful, that we are exquisite, that we have infinite potential with the world at our fingertips. At least I wasn’t. Does this mean that I have to live the rest of my life according to these strict rules that I was force-fed during my most influential years? Does this mean that I will never know what it means to truly have unconditional love for myself? I mean how many of us go out and buy a fucking pet just so we can come home from a job we hate and just feel unconditional love?!? And then when the pet dies, we get a new one. Of course scarred by the loss of his or her predecessor. Or even worse…we go onto dating sites and marry a girl that is just as empty as you.
We will get to that in the next post. But for now, I am going to be documenting my journey with the hopes of filling some necessary voids in my life. There will be no chronological order to any of this. What you will see is raw and authentic expression and struggles that one may have trying to do something that many of have no fucking clue as to how to do it: Love ourselves. Trust me, this won’t be the “Diary of Keith Hannigan”. More so, a creative voyage that will not only help me : stengthen my greatest weaknesses, empower me as a writer, but at the end of the day, heal the boy so I can become the man I am destined to be!
And by the way, I always recommend “rubbing one out” before you think about shooting that crazy bitch a text. Trust me on that!